The Road Less Traveled By
by OceanFlame
Summary: A while back I read a Pokemon manga where Prof. Oak mentions his own training days. It piqued my interest, and inspired me to write this tribute to the eccentric old researcher. This is my take on his early childhood.


The Road Not Taken

Two Roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

Samuel Oak sat on the tops of one of the many hills outside of Pallet Town. Eyes shut tight, he felt the breeze toss his spiky tan hair. Falling back onto the cushion of grass, he opened his eyes to gaze at the clouds in the sky. Seemingly not a care in the world, he appeared free of all the troubles in his life. Staring at the sky, he could almost forget. Almost.

Four months ago, his mother, Vivian Oak, had died. Like her husband Richard, she was an honest and wonderful person, as well as a devoted pokemon researcher. Ironic that she had been trampled to death by a crazed rhyhorn. Of course, the entire Oak family had been devastated. Amazingly, however, Richard Oak continued his research with renewed passion. Despite his pain, he knew better than to blame all pokemon for the death of his wife. He continued their projects, insisting that, "Viv would have wanted it."

Sam was another story, though. At five years old, he had watched, horrified as his mother was broken to bits beneath the insane pokemon. His father might still believe in pokemon, but Sam swore he wouldn't have anything to do with the monsters. Shuddering inwardly, he tried to block out the memory, but it was still impossible.

"_Sammy!" his mother had called, "Come with me today, I need to see how the herds are doing." Winking at her son, she promised, "Maybe if you're good one of them will even let you on its back."_

_Elated at the idea, the young boy grinned and asked, "Mommy, can I ride on Ponyta? She's pretty!"_

_Laughing warmly, she smiled mischievously and answered, "You'll just have to wait and see."_

_Once they had reached the field with all the "pack" pokemon in it, his mother had frowned at the newly captured rhyhorn. "Hmm..." she mused, "Something just doesn't look right with Damon's new pokemon. Can't you see it in his eyes, Sammy?" _

_Completely mystified, he had just nodded, eyes wide at the sight of all the pokemon. Looking curiously at the one in question he frowned and informed his mother, "He's scared, Mommy. He misses his friends."_

_She smiled fondly at her only child, tussling his hair. "Well, then it's our job to make him feel welcome so he can make new friends!"_

_Walking slowly over to the moody rhyhorn, Vivian said soothingly, "There, there, it's ok. No one here is going to hurt you." _

_Sam reached his arm up to pat the creature, but it whirled its head towards him, at an angle where Mrs. Oak could see its bloodshot eyes. Gasping, she shouted, "No, Sammy! Get back!" Lifting her son she threw him out of the demented pokemon's reach, determined to protect him. _

"_Mommy!!" _

Tears flowed openly down his cheeks. Because his mother had thrown him out of the pokemon's way, she herself was caught directly in its path. She died saving him, and he would never forgive or trust pokemon for what they had done to her. Vivian Oak had seen that there was something wrong with the rhyhorn, but it was his foolish idea that made her drop her guard around it. It was his fault, all his fault.

Shaking from the force of his racked sobs, Sam felt like it was just yesterday that she'd died. It wasn't of course, because his mother had missed so much since she'd died. His kindergarten graduation, his sixth birthday, every day of Sam's and his father's lives. _My fault,_ he thought painfully, _I'm sorry, Mom. I should have died, not you. _Bitter thoughts for a young boy.

Slowly his weeping ceased, and he dried his bleary eyes and runny nose on his sleeve. Dad would be looking for him soon, and he couldn't let him find out about these precious escapes to the hills. Taking a few deep breaths, he resolved to be strong for the thousandth time these past few months. His hard brown eyes of stone looked around at the landscape one more time. They were eyes that had seen too much for anyone, let alone a young child, and he inside of him was a heart that threatened to become harder than granite. He didn't care though, because it was exactly his goal.

"Ah, there you are, Sam," his father greeted as the young boy trudged through the kitchen door. "Listen, Buddy," he grinned, "I've got a deal to make with you. Interested?"

Shrugging, Sam replied, "I guess I have to hear it first." After making a stop at the fridge for a soda, he sat down at the kitchen table.

Belting out a laugh, Richard Oak replied, "Spoken like a wise man. I wish my own schooling was as complete as your own!" Clearing his throat, he continued, "However, this deal would involve missing a few weeks of school. In case you've any objections, I've already gotten your homework from your teacher."

"Where would we be going?" Sam asked skeptically, periodically sipping his soda pop.

"Glad you asked!" his father said, taking a seat next to his son. His mood suddenly changed to a serious expression, and told Sam, "I need to go on an expedition to Cinnabar Island. There's a mansion there that the owner has filled with various types of wild pokemon. It's quite a phenomenon, actually, because apparently the pokemon have all formed a community and are living quite well together. Not many researchers are invited to visit the mansion, and it's the chance of a lifetime for me to be able to study there."

Sam slowly nodded, realizing what this meant. _He wants me to be around those monsters too,_ he thought bitterly.

Sighing, his father hung his head and continued, "Sam, you can't go on blaming pokemon forever. After all, they're just like people; not all good, but not all bad. You can't just give up on hundreds of species because of one individual. It's impossible to live in our world today without at least encountering pokemon in our day-to-day lives."

Putting his hand on his son's shoulder, he said tiredly, "I want you to come with me, and see why your mother loved pokemon so much. They're fascinating creatures, and I know you used to love them too."

Fiercely tearing his gaze away from his father's imploring eyes, he brusquely wiped the hand off his shoulder, refusing to be swayed. "No," was his only reply.

Although Professor Oak was a patient man, he had a reputation for not tolerating foolishness. Standing up, he said in a voice of iron, "This is no longer available for discussion. The fact of the matter is, I can't just leave you on your own, so you're coming with me whether you like it or not. We're leaving by ferry tomorrow afternoon, so go upstairs and pack.

Sam glared at his father, rage shining in his eyes. Getting up so fast that his chair clattered to the floor, he silently ran up the stairs, determined not to release the tears glistening in his eyes.

Richard sighed heavily after Sam had slammed his door. Wandering over to the refrigerator, he leaned his head against its coolness, and his hand traced over the family picture taken a year ago. Freeing the photo from its magnetic holder, he gazed longingly at the image of his dead wife. _Vivian_, he asked the picture, _what's going to become of our son?_ His thumb caressed the paper lovingly, stroking the image of Vivian Oak's flowing chestnut hair.

Replacing the picture on the fridge, Richard wiped the single tear from his cheek. _I won't fail you, Viv, _he promised silently,_ And more importantly, I won't fail Sam._

"Ah! Professor Oak," hailed a cheery voice, "It's good to finally meet you in person. I've heard much about your work; this is an honor."

"I could very well say the same, Ms. Peyrine," Sam's father told the heiress graciously. Her raven hair was held tightly in an elaborate bun, and her red, semi-unbuttoned blouse coupled with black capris gave her a sophisticated look. Undoubtedly what she was going for when she got dressed this morning.

Iris Peyrine was the owner of "Inferno Mansion" as it was now being called, due to the massive amounts of fire pokemon that she had collected and introduced into her home. It was astounding that although every one of them was still wild, each became docile in her presence. Sam hated her instantly. _Her eyes are too skinny,_ he thought suspiciously, checking her over from the safety of his father's shadow.

He lost interest quickly, however, and began to examine the local landscape. After three days on the sea, the steamy island was a welcome change for his eyes. The nearby hot springs looked promising, and there were plenty of rocky ledges for him to explore. He would have to sneak off from his mindful parent's watchful care in order to accomplish the latter plan, though.

He was jolted out of his plotting, however, when Iris bent over and asked, "So is this your boy, Richard? He's absolutely adorable!" Sam nearly gagged from the amount of cleavage she was displaying in her current position. He looked pleadingly over to his father to get her to stand up again.

Smiling wanly, he tried, "Say, Iris, how about we go get settled at your mansion? I'm sure Sam wants a little rest just as much as I do before we start our big research project.

Squealing with delight, Ms. Peyrine latched onto Prof. Oak's arm insisting that he join her for a drink once "ickle Sammy" had been settled in for his "nappy." Richard looked back over his shoulder at his son and shot him a look that shouted, "You owe me big time."

Grinning malevolently, Sam whistled and skipped along behind the intertwined adults.

Once they had reached the converted mansion, Richard looked around at his new surroundings satisfactorily. Smiling to himself, he somehow just knew that this would be a positive experience for Sammy. Glancing back at his son, though, he found that Sam was already in shutdown mode. There were pokemon here, and he still wanted no part of them. Shaking his head, Richard reaffirmed his promise to change that.

He also needed to change the situation with Ms. Peyrine. She was still draped over his arm, pointing out this painting and that sculpture. Slightly overfriendly in Richard's opinion, and very unprofessional. Perhaps he could just avoid her except for meals, playing the devoted researcher. Nodding appreciatively as she babbled on, he thought, _Not too bad of an idea, really._

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and Richard abruptly halted, causing the woman to snap out of her thoughts as she stumbled a bit. "What is this?" he demanded. They had stopped in front of a metal door, very out of place in this cultural home, and even more peculiar was the "WARNING: DO NOT ENTER" sign on it.

Looking quizzically him, Iris answered, "Oh that? Why, that's just the research lab. Some scientists wanted a secure place to run some tests for whatever it is their up to, and I agreed to oblige them. Something about fossils or ancient pokemon or some such thing. Now as for that piece next to the door, my great-great grandfather painted it. He was quite the artist, as I'm sure you can tell...."

Giving up hope for anything else worthwhile to come out of her mouth, Richard pondered the mysterious lab. It made no sense to have in such a place as this. _Unless of course,_ he thought darkly, _they wanted a place where no one would be suspicious. _Plainly put, Iris Peyrine was an airhead. She evidently wouldn't ask questions, and neither would the locals since she was constantly allowing pokemon researchers to make camp in her enormous home. Something was most certainly not right here. Filing it in the back of his mind, Oak continued pay minimal attention to his tormentor's ramblings.

Sam Oak sat boredly on his feather bed in the mansion. There was absolutely no way he was going to sleep, not when pokemon roamed the corridors. Still, there wasn't really anything else to do, so it might not hurt to....Shaking his head and scowling, he immediately put such foolish ideas out of his head. He had to keep his guard up, at all costs.

There was a soft knock at his door, and in came his father. Looking around the room approvingly, Prof. Oak sat down on the bed next to his son. "So..." he ventured, "have I missed anything good?"

"Not really," Sam replied in a bored monotone, "There was a fly, but it finally found the window about twenty minutes ago."

"Good, very good to hear," his father responded appraisingly. Then he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small, round object. At the push of a button, it expanded, and Sam saw that it was a pokeball. He recoiled slightly, fearing that there might be an actual pokemon inside.

Frowning, Oak told the boy, "Relax, it's empty. Although I've been assured that all the pokemon in this place are friendly, you can use this to capture one of them perhaps. Even if it's only to protect yourself in case you can't get out of a sticky situation.

Sam snorted, but accepted the ball anyway. His father shot him a look of disapproval, but then quickly smoothed his features and explained, "We're going to be here awhile, of course. Now then, you can either stay in this room all that time, or you can come with me to study a little. By the way, you're only allowed to choose the second option."

Glaring at his parent, Sam grudgingly stood up. When Richard looked somewhat shocked, Sam said tiredly, "I'd rather die than stay in this room any longer than I have to."

The pair sat quietly, Richard calmly sketching the two growlithe romping about the conservatory. Sam, on the other hand, was fighting to control his breathing, and failing. Looking over at his panicked child, Richard felt yet another wave of sympathy for him. Patiently putting down his notebook, the elder Oak said quietly, "Sam, look at me." When the boy did, he continued, "Now look at them." This took a little more time, but after a few seconds Sam finally did. "Tell me, son, do they look bloodthirsty and ready to kill at any moment?"

"No..." the young boy said uncertainly.

"Exactly. Listen, Sam. There are indeed risks to this job, your mother knew that. On the other hand though, there are many rewards such as this. I get to spend my days playing with creatures who have as many personalities as a rainbow has hues. Just look at how happy those two are over there."

Sam did look, and for the first time since his mother died, he let his heart soften toward pokemon. He also let his father's words finally sink in. They were just like the pokemon he had been so attached to back home. _"Mommy, can I ride on Ponyta? She's pretty!" _He had loved pokemon, just like his parents, and this was why. Those growlithe weren't evil killing machines, they were just normal creatures, like humans. _Like me,_ he thought.

His gaze shifted to his father, who was smiling proudly. Then Sam did something he hadn't done in months; he smiled back. It wasn't vicious, or sarcastic, it was the happy smile of a little boy.

"Sam, I want to tell you something. I loved your mom, and it hurts me everyday that she's gone. There was something special about her, just like every researcher." Lightly giving his son's arm a playful punch, he continued, "We pokemon researchers are a rare breed; not everyone can cut it. In fact, very few can prove themselves to be talented in this field. Not many want to." Gazing off into space he recited, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by." Then looking back at Sam he finished, "And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost."

"Who's that dad?" Sam asked

Chuckling, Richard answered, "An unusually smart poet. Now go on, do some exploring. There's tons more to see around this place, I'm sure."

Nodding excitedly, the young boy took off, leaving his father to his own studies.

Sam felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was still pain, yes, but the hatred he'd been holding pokemon lately was quickly dissipating. Plopping down along the hallway wall somewhere in the guest wing, he decided he just needed a moment to take things in. He had to resist the urge to smack himself on the head for being so stupid. Normally he had more since than that, even if he was just six.

Then again, he seemed to remember one of his father's colleagues saying, "Grief makes us all do strange things." Drumming his hands on the ground, Sam was inclined to agree. He thought back to what Richard had said before as well, "We researchers are a rare breed."

His thoughts were interrupted by a small sound, though. "Char?" the quiet voice said again. Checking around, Sam saw a young charmander peeking out from behind an open door. Taking a sharp breath, he realized that it might not be quite as easy as he'd thought to get over his former fear.

His right hand moved to the pokeball clipped to his belt, unnoticed by Sam until it was fully expanded in his hand. He looked down surprisedly at the contraption, then determination filled his eyes. This was his chance.

Standing up slowly, so not to startle the pokemon and make it run away, Sam gently tossed the pokeball at the inquisitive creature. It didn't even resist, but merely continued to watch Sam with fascination. Next thing both knew, the pokeball had dinged and gone still, with the charmander successfully captured.

Exhaling slowly, Sam crept over to the ball, not daring to believe he had actually caught his first pokemon. Picking it up, he grinned and told it, "Maybe I'll take the one less traveled by."

And there you have it, my tribute to the original Pokemon Prof. If I get some decent feedback to this story, I might just follow up on it. Then again, if no one's bothering to read it, it'll just stay as a one-shot. Please review, even if you don't want me to continue this fic!


End file.
